


One Fish, Two Fish

by Benedicthiddleston



Series: Parental Issues [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fish, Gifts, Jim being Jim, M/M, Pets, Worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk + Goldfish = disaster</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Fish, Two Fish

The _Enterprise_ had five hundred and thirty six crew members, sixty three children ranging in ages from eight months to seventeen years, and sixteen pets. Two dogs, four cats, eight hamsters, and two birds. Plus the odd salamander or whatnot in the botany labs and maybe a few spiders hiding out in Engineering.

However, there had never been any fish onboard the _Enterprise_. Starships and water didn’t mix well when not in a sealed and pressurized container.

After a rough negotiation with the G’lor’na species on the planet of _Torzano_ for a trade of battery packs and actual authentic cuisine, among other more series discussions like war and weapons, Captain James T. Kirk walked away with a limp and a pet goldfish. Begrudgingly, unfortunately.

Bones told him the limp wouldn’t be forever, but it would likely be an annoyance for a couple of months. That had done nothing to improve Jim’s mood on the planet as he formally departed the G’lor’na palace and limped away with a fish bowl in his arms.

Once he beamed back onboard the _Enterprise_ , he ordered an immediate launch _away_ from _Torzano_ into uncharted space and passed command onto his First Officer, Spock. The transporter technician at that time gave their Captain a raised eyebrow at the curt commands and stared rather confusedly at the actual fishbowl in Jim’s arms. And then, with absolutely no other exchange of words, the technician watched as Jim limped his way out of the room and down the hall, headed for a turbolift to get him back to his quarters and to figure out what the fuck to do with a _fish_.  

_A fish_ , Jim groused to himself as he voice commanded himself into his quarters. He silently set the fish on his desk and voice commanded his door locked. He groaned at the pain from his leg and the fact he now had a pet. He wondered how fast he could get rid of it to some unsuspecting child on the fifth level. Or give it to the ship’s high school for experimentation.

Except he knew he couldn’t do that. After being injured in the duel that he had specifically not instigated, and he swore up and down to Spock he had nothing to do with it, the G’lor’na had attempted to treat his leg and as penance gave him the fish as a parting gift. Something about the healing effects of fish on their planet. Jim really couldn’t understand it between the stabbing pain and bellowing from an all-too-familiar discontented Chief Medical Officer.

They had called the fish a _gol-frish_ , which totally reminded Jim of a goldfish, even though the fish was a light blue color and shimmered even in the damn dark. And if he looked at it long enough, it started to look like his brother Sam’s pet gerbil from over twenty years before, which had coincidentally been the exact color of Jim’s eyes too. Thank you science and genetic mutations. So of course the fish was now reminding him of the color of his eyes and _fucking hell, I am already done with having a pet._ He had not asked for the fish. But he had taken it out of obligation for peace between the humans and the G’lor’na. And the fact they had been super regretful of bringing harm to a visiting species, especially the Captain of such a fine ship and crew.

Dropping his pants, Jim headed for the bathroom, the fish constantly on his mind. How was he to care for it on a starship? There were few animals on the actual _Enterprise_ and the bowl was open faced. The water would slosh everywhere and the fish would be dead the next time the ship was hit or the warp drive slammed out of its stream unexpectedly for any other reason than Scotty being Scotty or a random attack by an unknown ship. Frankly, Jim had not wanted a pet, especially a fish. They were far too easy to kill, especially if fed wrong or mishandled in some way. He vaguely remembered a classmate back on Tarsus IV having a fish and the kid touched and played, literally played, with the fish so much that in under a week the fish was dead, floating belly up in the tank in the living room.

Jim had never had his own pet as a child because his step father punished him by taking everything he owned and loved. A pet would have just been harmed in the process. Of course, Sam had had his own pets, but Jim hadn’t cared. He had not desired to take on the responsibility of a pet, not then and definitely not now. He had more to worry about as Captain of a Starship with almost five hundred and forty souls on board. He was in charge of enough, thank you very much.

As his weekly allotment of water ran down his tanned skin, Jim sighed. He didn’t even like to eat fish. Not that he was going to be eating the fish that had been gifted to him. It was basically the G’lor’na version of a goldfish, and goldfish weren’t usually a delicacy even back on Earth. Maybe he could give it to the science labs. But again, his obligation far outweighed his dislike for having an actual pet in his possession.

He finished with his shower, toweled off, threw on a Starfleet standard issued pajama bottoms, and slumped into his office chair, his eyes narrowing in on the fish. He knew it needed to be fed, but with what? The replicators did not exactly come with fish food built into them. He sighed, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“Why a fish? Why not a nice statue I could give to Spock as a birthday gift or a musical score Uhura can practice and play for everyone? Ugh.”

He turned away from the fish, activating his computer terminal. He pulled up info on how to care for a goldfish and set to reading it carefully. It was going to be a long night.

-

He didn’t move the fishbowl once. He just let it sit there on his desk, staring at him night and day, whenever he sat at his desk or changed clothes or crawled into bed.

The fish, finally named Herbert after twenty four hours of being in Jim’s possession, swam lazily in his bowl, not giving a care to the rushing world outside of the Captain’s quarters.

There was nothing special about Herbert. He was just there. Jim would give Herbert a long stare before bed each night, but then he wouldn’t care anymore. Jim was not a fish person. He was not a pet person. He told his Yeoman to give the fish food when he was away and that was it.

So it didn’t really surprise Jim when he dragged himself into his quarters on night number three after receiving the parting gift from the G’lor’na to find Herbert precariously floating at the top of the fish bowl. Jim knew enough to know that that wasn’t exactly normal. Somehow, someway, after barely seventy two hours in Jim Kirk’s possession, Herbert, the gifted fish, was dead. And Jim – Jim had been responsible for that death.  

He hit his comm and asked if Spock would come into his quarters. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened without commotion and Jim’s second-in-command, Commander Spock, stepped into the room. The Vulcan saw the scene before him and just stared.

“Yeah, so, is this good or bad luck?”

Spock gave his Captain a long look before eventually speaking. “The G’lor’na did not specify how to treat their gift.”

“I don’t think they expected it to be dead seventy two hours after bestowing it upon a stranger.”

“You fed it properly?”

Jim waved a hand towards his closed door. “Rand was taking care of it.”

Slowly _the_ eyebrow rose and stayed up. Jim muttered something about not giving a fucking twit about a fish, but he finally sighed and sat down at the edge of his bed.

“I’m not a pet person, Spock. And definitely not a fish person.”

“You very well had the chance to gift the animal to another individual onboard the _Enterprise_ if you did not desire the responsibility –“

“Nothing to do with responsibility, Spock. More like obligation. I mean, they gifted me a fucking fish. And now that fish is dead. I can’t even keep a fucking fish alive for longer than three days.”

Spock was quiet for what seemed like a very pregnant pause. He finally did speak. “You are referencing the fact you may not be suitable for fatherhood.”

Jim buried his face in his hands. “God, Spock, must you speak the obvious?”

“Then as you are in a homosexual relationship, you should have no worry about fatherhood, for I-“

“Spock,” Jim said, standing from the chair. He crossed the length of the room to stand before his First Officer and t’hy’la, his face a mixture of arrogance and worry. “You know that isn’t entirely what I meant. What if we – what if we one day decide we want to adopt? Do you think I would be able to handle caring for a child when I can kill a fish in under a week? Kids are a huge deal. They are living, breathing things. The fish was one in a million. I just – I already distrust myself in so many other ways. How am I supposed to shoulder that type of responsibility?”

Spock reached for Jim’s hands and laced them between his own, their minds connecting instantaneously. “You will make a fine father one day. To worry about the future when you are in the present is illogical.”

“It was a fucking fish, Spock. A _fish_. The color of my eyes. And now it is dead. Lifeless. Because of me. How unsettling is that?”

“You are human.”

Jim just sighed. “Guess I need to bury it. Should I hold a funeral?”

The response did not come verbally. Jim just laughed as he responded in kind through their mind link. _Down the toilet it is._

-

There had always been a club. One meant to hold together their broken Captain in all his patch worked glory. They worked behind the scenes to keep his head floating above the damning water they knew he was in, even if they did not know everything.

This club knew that the Captain and First Officer were an item. They also knew that they would do everything in their power to keep the strongest Command duo of Starfleet together no matter what. Once one individual caught wind of their Captain’s insecurities, they hatched a plan to build up the confidence of their shining leader. This meant doing things a bit – old fashioned, so to speak.

The fish had been the beginning. It had been intended as a way to boost their Captain’s caretaking abilities without out rightly stating it. Unfortunately, no one had suspected that the fish would be dead three days after it was brought onboard, nor that it would have absolutely nothing to do with Jim’s care of the gifted fish. Unfortunately, two crew members had not done their research when silently working behind the scenes to have the G’lor’na offer the light blue fish as a gift to the Captain. Their original plan had backfired pretty spectacularly.

But that did not stop the continued efforts of a crew that wanted to give their all to their Captain. Silently, a new plan was being hatched. And with it would come a new adventure.

And another shot at caring for something other than himself.

 


End file.
